


Beyond The Mountains

by Tobias_Starlight



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Gen, How Do I Tag, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, M/M, Multi, Oh My God, Original Character(s), Original Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:21:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28636212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tobias_Starlight/pseuds/Tobias_Starlight
Summary: Acheilea, a world of prosperity and happiness ruled over by the generous King Griffin and his council.The Farlands has always been a hub of peace and opportunity, a place to make it, a place to belong. No threat stands in the way of you and your future. You are free.One day, a mysterious traveller arrives from the Outerlands, weary and tired. He beds in the castle, and warns the king of an empire arising from the poverty of the distant planes. Rumours fly thick and fast, but the seven kingdoms remain calm, and nobody believes of the beggars tale.Except for the Usoro brothers.They travel far, and risk everything they have to protect their homes. Lead by Quain, the most infamous of the brothers, a wanted criminal at war with himself, they make the treacherous journey to the Outerlands and beyond.Only they dare to go out and explore the world Beyond the Mountains.Only they dare to truly break free.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 2





	1. Prologue - The Scroll

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there!
> 
> Chances are, you know me already, but this is my original story!
> 
> I apologise for any errors, I was keen to get this out and into the world! :)
> 
> Hope you enjoy

It was a dark night.

All nights are dark. They hold shadows, secrets that are never whispered into the pure sunlight, but this night was especially dark.

The thunder clapped in the sky and streaks of white hot light zigzagged their way across the sheet of twilight. 

The king was still awake. Griffin rarely slept nowadays, as his head always raced with anxiety and thoughts that would keep even the most trained of mindful Strazorists staring into the midnight air. His wife lay in their bed, her head filled with nothing but calming dreams and blissful escapism. 

Pacing his office, back and forth, back and forth, as the candlelight glowed gently on the mantelpiece. He knew that he would alert a guard soon enough with the frantic tapping of his black tailored boots, but that wasn't at all his biggest concern.

He had been, for a while now, sending a change in the air. A few of his closest trading partners in the Innerlands had completely stopped all contact with him, and that filled his stomach with dread. They were never usually silent.

A ruckus aroused itself downstairs. Shouting and slamming of objects and doors echoed through the hollow corridors of the castle, until somebody came click click clicking up the stairs and to his door with a state of urgency in their stride.

The door burst open and the candle on the mantle blew out in the breeze. Abbas, the king's own personal scholar, slammed it behind him and flicked the lock. He held a scroll in his hand.

He appeared to be in a frenzy, his blonde hair was messed and falling out of its usual bun and his emerald eyes were wide. An unsettling scent of alarm filled the quiet few seconds that followed. 

Abbas coughed, ran his hands down his robes and regained his usual sense of charming composure.

"Your majesty, sorry to burst in so suddenly, but I have some news."

"You have some news," Griffin repeated slowly, eyeing the man up and down with a look in his eye that was difficult to place. He leaned on his oak desk, "what would that be?"

"There's a beggar in the stables. He's been staying there for, he says, a few days now, and he requested that I give you this."

Abbas extended the scroll forward, and Griffin took it, staring still at the man who had not even two minutes before been bursting into his calm haven.

"Of course," the scholar started as the king opened the fraying paper with care, "I gave it a read before I got up here. We don't want you to get cursed or uh-or anything."

"No, indeed we don't."

"Yeah...well, essentially, I didn't expect much, maybe the usual pleading request for financial support or something, but what it said, it...alarmed me. It alarmed me more than I care to admit, honestly."

Griffin nodded slowly, and began to study the text as Abbas untied his hair and twisted back into its usual updo.

Regarding the paper long after he had finished reading, the king looked up at his scholar.

"This alarmed you?"

"Yes. It uh-it alarmed me a lot."

"Abbas," Griffin inhaled, placed the scroll down, and studied the shorter man with a glint of amusement, "the scroll clearly contains a beggars tale. The man wants to cause panic, create room for rebellion. It's nothing to be afraid of."

"But sir," the scholar started, watching intently as the king stood to his full height and rolled the scroll back up, "what if it's not just a normal beggars tale. It could be serious. We need to notify the council just in case."

"We do not."

"Sir, I think it would be best of we-"

"No Abbas."

"With all due respect sir, as your scholar, I think that you should at least call a meeting. We dont want another war like the last one, and-"

"ABBAS," Griffin spun, suddenly angry, "as your King, I am telling you that we will not be taking action. Stop with your insistent rambling, you are being paranoid."

Abbas stood firm, glared at the mocha eyed king with the regality of a soldier. The latter walked to the door, opening it and turning back in the doorway.

"There is no empire beyond the mountains, Abbas. Go home."


	2. Chapter One - Twilight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am speedrunning this shit to get as much of a start as I can, there may be another chapter today, idk yet.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy :)

In terms of life, Callan didn't have it bad. 

A good family, good grades, good at combat, good with people, good friends, good food, a good house. Generally, he lived well. Life in the Kingdom of Torsney was easy. 

His home was just by the castle walls, because that's where his dad worked and spent almost all of his time. 5 minutes away from the gym, 10 minutes away from the school hall, the main street was just around the corner, the woods were just beyond the path that made it's way past the fence to their carefully tended garden.

His room looked out and down the glade to the stream. Often, he'd curl himself up on the windowsill with his sword and look out, as he was at that moment, imagining himself running off, through the trees, out of the farland boundaries and into the great unknown.

He had tried to once. He often planned it with his closest friend, Salem. Sunny afternoons, as they sat under the shade of the old oak tree in the garden. Elaborate schemes, the two of them running off together to explore worlds far beyond their reach.

One night, in the quiet of the twilight, as his brothers and his father slept, Callan had packed his brown satchel and his sword and had climbed through his window and out into the gentle evening. Silent footsteps led him along the back of the town, and into the thick of the trees. Scrambling over fallen logs, barging his way through brambles and branches, until he saw the incline of the first mountain. 

Picking up his speed, slicing through the cold air until a foot slid out from behind a tall tree. He tumbled through the air and hit the ground with a thud.

Quain had slipped out from behind the tree like a shadow. Observing him with warm brown eyes, towering over him with a judgemental look resting on his peaceful features. He hadn't spoken, only gestured with his head to follow. Reluctantly, Callan had stood, caked in dirt and rogue leaves, and trailed back through the woods behind his older brother. 

Quain had stalked up the gravel path to the front door and had opened it without a sound. They walked into the small kitchen and living area, and the older went into the bathroom, turning on the shower and running the water as silently as he could until it was warm. He peered his head out to where Callan stood, staring at his shoes.

"Come on, get a shower," he whispered, "I'll make hot cocoa for you when you get out."

"I don't need your fucking sympathy," Callan had hissed as he passed, "...but thanks."

"It's nothing," his brother started towards the kitchen, "but remember, it sees all. Don't try and sneak away again."

-

Now Callan was curled up in his bed, fast asleep. Quain had peered in to make sure of it. He had noticed his brother's habit of staying up late to stare out at the world. 

Quillon was the most sensible of them, really. Always in bed at 10pm sharp, asleep by 11pm, awake by 7am. A precise schedule, for a less than precise person.

His dad seemed to be immune to sleep. He presumed that he slept when the brothers were out running errands.

Making his way back into his room, Quain studied the familiar stars on his ceiling as he collapsed onto the soft sheets of his bed. Reaching over to his bedside table, he picked up a pen and his notebook.

Bound in sleek black leather, the number 21 painted in the corner. He opened it to a new page, slid his hand over the smooth cream paper. 

The front door opened. Sighing, he rose from his bed and placed the notebook down, open on the unmarked spread. Slipping out his room, he stood at the end of the hallway as he watched his dad struggle to throw off his cloak.

"-fucking stubborn man. Why won't he just listen to me god damn it, especially after we-"

"After you what?"

Abbas jumped in his place and spun to face where Quain stood. 

"Quain," his face softened, "what are you doing up at this time."

"You know I rarely sleep, dad."

"Oh, yeah, of course."

Silence lay thick in the air. Abbas untied his hair and let it fall past his shoulders.

"Have you…" he paused, waving his arms as if to manifest the right wording, "...have you been having any issues recently?"

"I always do," Quain shrugged off the question, taking the kettle in the corner and filling it, placing it on the stove to heat, "it's always there. Talking to me, demanding blood, and power. All it wants is to tear me and the world apart."

Abbas' lips tightened together and he hung his bag on the hook by the door.

"You know you can tell me, right? Whenever you have those...issues. I know it can get you quite down."

"That's an understatement," Quain muttered, pulling the kettle off the boil as it started to screech out into the house air, "but I know. I just prefer to keep it to myself."

He poured a mug of tea and moved it across the counter to where his father stood, solemn and silent. They connected eyes for a moment, and Abbas smiled, opening his arms.

Quain accepted the invitation, wrapping himself in the safety of his dad's embrace. It was nice, quiet. The storm had died down now, and the breeze was the only sound minus the steady rhythm of their hearts.

He and his twin had always been thankful that Abbas had found them when he did. Without him, they would have been long since dead. He took them in and gave them a home when everybody else walked by them and their cries. 

"Well," Abbas stepped back, taking the cup of tea in his hands and taking a small sip, "I'm off to bed. See you tomorrow."

"Yeah."

He left the kitchen as it was and slipped back into his bedroom, closing the door with a quiet click and exhaling.

The light flicked on.

Quillon sat, legs crossed, on his bed. He held his notebook in his hands.

Instantly, his stomach fell.

"Quain," his twin looked at him with a stern look in his eyes, "we need to talk. Now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I quite like that chapter haha. Future chapters will be longer, I'm just starting smaller to make it easier to read n stuff.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed :)


	3. I

In a small village in the Innerlands, a new face is stalking around the bustling market. He looks tired, messy, and disheveled, beneath the looming hood and the plain, patternless mask that shields his face. He carries a mace on his back, uniquely shaped and crafted, and his hair falls in a tangle down his back. He pulls it back into a ponytail as he scans the stalls for his target.

He finds him, sitting sharpening a broadsword with skillful hands. A slim teenage boy is clumsily sorting his tools into the drawer beside him. They make eye contact from across the market. The boy turns away and slips back behind the curtain.

He approaches the man calmly, with an air of confidence. He stands menacingly above the workbench. The man gazes up at him slowly, eyes him carefully. He places the sword down and stands.

"Can I help you?"

"You can. Alejandro Sallow, I presume?"

The man regards him once again with his curious eye.

"Indeed. And you are?"

The stranger tilts his head.

"My name isn't necessary to this, Mr Sallow. Do you have a place we can talk in private."

"Of course. This way"

He followed him into the small house that sat behind the stall. Alejandro gestured to one of the armchairs that sat by the empty fireplace. He sat.

"Lonan," the man gestured to the boy from before, who was now standing hesitantly in the doorway, "can you get us some tea."

The boy, Lonan, nodded, and disappeared into the kitchen.

"Now, what do you wish to discuss."

The stranger shifts his head again. His voice is muffled slightly behind the mask.

"I come from the farlands, bearing a proposition for you. An alliance opportunity, if you will. You are one of the best blacksmiths, if not the best, in all of Acheilea, correct?"

"I am, yes. What is it to you?"

Lonan slips back through silently with two cups of tea. He hands them to Alejandro and the stranger and nods at them both.

"Thank you Lonan," the blacksmith nods back, "you can go."

The boy turns and darts up the stairs.

"As I was saying," the stranger announces, turning back to the older man, "I wish to form an alliance with you. I believe that my idea has great potential, and I request that you stand by my side. It will benefit you greatly, in terms of money and fame."

"I already have enough money and fame. What else would it give me?"

"Power."

He can practically see the sparkles in the strangers eyes from behind the mask.

"Power? Do go on."

"You will get to lead an empire by my side. We will make great fortune, especially if another war breaks out."

"What would we do?" Alejandro sips tea while regarding the mysterious traveller as he sat, tea in hand, untouched.

"We would create weapons by the mass. Extremely helpful when it comes to training and battle. Mass sold weapons will easily benefit the Commonwealth should another war break out"

The blacksmith's expression turns, from one of interest to one of disdain.

"That defies tradition."

"Tradition is old, frail, built on ancient truths and laws that have since changed as we have evolved as people. Acheileans have to move past their feeble traditions, it does no good."

Alejandro inhales deeply, and sets down his cup firmly. He rises, and begins to toss logs in the fire.

Striking it ablaze, he looks into the flames

"For years, the traditions of Acheilea have paid my dues, and kept food on the table for my family. Why, good stranger, would I give that up for some fragile, possible hoax of an idea."

The stranger places his full cup back down and stands.

"Very well, you have made your choice, Mr Sallow. But beware, the fates wont take kindly to your mistakes. I shall bid you adieu."

With a swing of his cloak, he slips out of the door and into the crowd.

Out of the village, and back out into the great unknown, Czar pulls down his hood and casts off his featureless mask. Sighing, he begins to set off, studying his map to chart his course, when someone shouts behind him. He turns.

Lonan is running up to him from the village as the sun begins to lower in the sky. He stops just short of running into him, and catches his breath.

"I heard your plan," he said, "it's a good idea."

"Thank you," Czar nodded, "now what can I do for you."

Lonan looked up into his weary, rough face. His eyes shone with hope, and promise.

"I want to help you start an empire."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aight we are back. 
> 
> I'm formatting this a little like the Dear Evan Hansen novel, with main chapters and then every so often a filler that is titled with roman numerals. The fillers are from the pov of a different character. This is the first of these :)
> 
> Next chapter will be out in a bit, school starts again tomorrow so I'll be busy with that haha


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